A Romance To Be Kindled
by QuincyMoxy
Summary: AU. Since they were four, Dean and Jimmy have been best friends. But when Dean suddenly feels an attraction to Jimmy, and visa-versa, their friendship will be changed forever. Rated M for: Soon-to-Come explicit slash, Soon-to-Come violence, language.
1. Chapter 1

**This is gonna be a looooooooooooong story... And, at the moment, the rating is Teen, but I have it set to M, because in a little bit, it's gonna be stuff that I'd get sued for for exhibiting it to teenagers... :3**

**Title: A Romance To Be Kindled  
Summary: Since they were four, Dean and Jimmy have been best friends. But when Dean suddenly feels an attraction to Jimmy, their friendship will be changed forever.  
Characters: (Per Chapter) Dean Winchester, Jimmy Novak  
Pairing: Dean W./Jimmy Novak  
Rating: M (NC-17) for the following: (Per Chapter) Mild Language**

* * *

Since they were four, Dean Winchester and Jimmy Novak had always been best friends. They'd lived on the same street for eleven years, three houses apart from one another. Dean had memorized the number of steps he had to take to get to Jimmy's: 47. It grew less every year as Dean's legs lengthened. The two had been attached at the hip ever since Jimmy moved onto that street and crashed his four-wheeled bike into the oak tree in front of Dean's house. Dean couldn't remember a happy moment that didn't involve Jimmy. There was the time when they were seven, Jimmy was staying the night at Dean's. They snuck out in full-black costumes and ding-dong-ditched until 3:30. The next morning, everyone in Lawrence was talking about two gremlins knocking and running. Then there was the time in the 7th-grade play, when the two boys had a scene together. Dean had forgotten his lines out of nervousness, so Jimmy had to mouth them to him and try to perform sign language while saying Dean's cue line. Then, in 10th grade, they'd thrown a bucket of yellow paint on a rival high-school's wall, and gotten chased for seventeen blocks by an enraged football player who had a strange resemblance to a charging rhino. Eventually, Jimmy had run out of breath (it's what happens when you're cracking up and sprinting your legs off at the same time), and gotten decked by the football player. Dean ended up kicking the guy in the package, helping Jimmy run for ten blocks, and then holding Jimmy's head still so he could ice the wound.

The list went on.

All through the eleven years, neither of them had ever been angry at the other, felt betrayed at one point or another, or felt alone. Never in the eleven years.

* * *

Jimmy Novak scrambled out of the antique car, simultaneously checking his watch and fumbling with his textbooks. Dean Winchester exited the Impala more slowly and collectively, gently shutting the door and strolling onto the curb. Jimmy kicked the door closed with his foot, rattling the car dangerously and earning a shout from Dean.

"Dude, don't kick the car!"

Jimmy hopped onto the sidewalk and began jogging towards the building while shouting behind him: "I won't kick the car if you get me here on time tommorow!"

Dean scoffed and yelled after him, "It's not my fault you can't get wheels of your own!"

When no reply came, Dean again yelled, "And if/when you do get a car, if it's one of those douche-baggy jeeps you've had your eye on, I'm gonna kill ya!"

Jimmy, now far ahead of Dean, whipped his head around and gave Dean his signature "death-glare" before shouldering the door open and wriggling inside.

To anyone who didn't know them, it would've looked like a quarrel, but to Dean and Jimmy's friends, it was all in good fun.

And it was, really.

Every morning, Dean drove Jimmy to their highschool, made him late, and engaged in a "fight" with him. Every morning, Jimmy would catch a ride with Dean, become late, and "fight" with Dean. It was their daily routine for weekdays.

Jimmy was a year younger than Dean, but he'd been born in the summer, so he was in Dean's class. He wouldn't be able to get his license for another year, meaning that the torture of explaining to the teachers over and over, "Dean Winchester drove me", was a routine as well.

Luckily, most of his teachers knew Dean by reputation and let Jimmy get away with it.

Jimmy pushed his way past a throng of freshmen girls gossiping in the hallways and down a flight of stairs to get to his locker. Hastily, he dropped the textbooks he'd been carrying (narrowly missing his foot), and twisted the combination lock to 42. The minute bell rang as he muttered "42-20-36", trying to remember the combination after the weekend.

"Hey, Sherlock," came Dean's voice as he swatted Jimmy's unsteady hand away from the lock after he'd gotten the combo wrong for the third time. Dean cleared his throat and curled his hand into a fist before banging on the locker door twice, in the center. He then pulled the lock up, and the door swung open. A piece of paper tumbled out, along with a stinking gym sock (Dean's) as Jimmy stared at the locker. He locked eye with Dean and stage-whispered, "Why the heck haven't you ever told me I could do that!"

"Because you'd steal something."

Jimmy paused in the middle of stuffing the textbooks back into the locker to stare increduously at Dean. "This is my locker."

"Insurance swindle."

"I don't think so." Jimmy growled as he shoved the wadded-up sock into Dean's hand. "Wash that. And it's twin. Wherever it is."

"Probably in your lunchbag."

Another death glare. Jimmy pulled out a Spanish book and began running to class, when the minute bell rang. He skidded to a halt and swiveled to look at Dean who was still standing in front of the locker, watching him go. He did the classic "What the Heck?" move, involving the flailing of his arms, the near dropping of a text book, and the classic "orgasm-without-the-pleasure" face, then skidded into his spanish class down the hall.

Dean chuckled as he watched him go, bid a "hello, ladies" to an attractive pair of junior girls, then casually strolled upstairs to his literature class.

* * *

The day was suicidal-tendecy-inducing slow, and when the last bell rang, Dean knocked over at least ten other kids trying to get out of the thrice-damned school. Once he managed to fight his way through the mosh-pit of kids, Dean leaned against the Impala, waiting for Jimmy. It took a while for Jimmy to appear, and when he did, he was breathless and red-faced.

"Whaddya do, trap some girl in the supply closet?" Dean inquired as Jimmy slid into the car. Another death glare. That had to be some sort of record...

"No. No; I was talking to Mr. Sandoval. Math teacher."

"Uh. Didya trap him in the supply closet?" Dean snickered as he leaned over to gently sniff Jimmy. The younger boy jerked away and failed to hide a suppressed smile as Dean chuckled again and geared the Impala out of the parking lot. They reached 23rd street and were waiting at a red light when Dean looked over at Jimmy. His head was leaning on the leather seat, eyes closed, lips slightly parted in a relaxed expression of serenity. His hair was sitting in a tangled mass on his head, some of beaded with the tell-tale white specks of hair gel. A small trickle of sweat was amassed at Jimmy's hairline from the hot September weather. Dean found himself leaning closer, almost subconciously towards Jimmy, just watching. And he didn't even know the reason why. What would Jimmy do if Dean licked that small droplet of sweat? Would he laugh? Leave? Not that there were many places to go to in traffic. Or would he be mad? Or maybe he'd-

_BEEEP._

The sudden car horn brought Dean roughly boomerang-ing back to his seat. The light had turned, evidently. Jimmy's eyes flickered open as Dean gunned the accelerator (maybe a bit more enthusiastic than he had to be, but...) and went screeching down 23rd street. There was silence for a minute; only the heavy rock tunes of Warrant keeping the quiet non-awkward.

"Oh hey," Jimmy said, and Dean resisted the urge to look over at him. "Are we picking up Sam?"

"What?"

Jimmy sighed and leaned over to turn down "Uncle Tom's Cabin". "I said, are we picking up Sam?"

"Uh."

"You know, Sam? Your skinny little- well not little- brother? Look's like a puppy? He's in 6th grade? I though you knew him. Shaggy brown-"

"I got it." Dean interrupted. "Sorry. I'm just really tired."

"Mm-hmm," Jimmy answered after a moment of silence. Dean's eyes were focused on the road, but he could feel the piercing blue eyes of his companion on his face. Dean found himself breaking out into a light sweat, and he hastily wiped away the dampness gathering on his forehead. What the Hell was happening to him?

* * *

**Hm. This was a bit shorter than I intended it to be, but... c'est la vie. **

**+Luvs and cookies+**


	2. Chapter 2

**OK, so some of you may not remember, but the name of Jimmy Novak's wife in "The Rapture" is Amelia… That's kinda a trivia thing I threw in here. But she's not going to be a big character… 'Cause I didn't really like her. :3**

**I do have a short message for the readers:**

…

**REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!**

* * *

Jimmy leaned against his wall, studying the geography homework intently. His pencil eraser lay against his lips, every now and then transfering to the paper to document knowledge about Confucious. A history book lay across his lap, opened to page 294. Jimmy's eyes flickered to the alarm clock on his bedside table. 10:43 on a Saturday. He was sitting on his bed doing homework. That was sad. Setting the textbook and paper aside, he crawled across the bed and reached down to pull his cell phone out of it's cradle. He pressed down "2" and came up with Dean's speed dial. Draped over the side of the bed, he pressed the "Send" button.

_Ring-ring._

"Hey man."

"Hi, Dean. Look, I've been doing homework for the past two hours and staring at the same page for half of that. I'm going up the walls here. Can you hang out?"

"You coulda just said that in the first place, and no, I can't."

"Drat."

A pause. Jimmy heard an unmistakable giggle (from a girl, not Dean) and pulled his mouth into an exasperated sigh. The silence continued for several seconds, with nothing but laughing in the background. Then, finally, Dean's voice came back online.

"M'back."

"I can tell. Did you forget to hang up?"

"What are we doing?"

"Huh?"

"You said you wanted to hang out! Where are we goin', what are we doing?"

"Uh. OK. But didn't you just- never mind. OK. D'you want to meet at the gazebo?"

"Yeah. Be there in ten."

There was a click and the line went dead. Jimmy sighed and clunked the phone back into it's charger. Dean was like that… so unpredictable, so… spontaneous. It could sometimes get a tinsy-bit annoying. But, there was no way Jimmy held it against Dean. It was just one of those silly traits you had to learn to live with. He crawled off the bed and pulled on his converse before walking downstairs, shouting "M'leaving, Mom!" and dashing outside before she could ask questions. He grabbed his bike that was locked to the drainpipe against the house and pulling out of the driveway.

The bike ride to the gazebo was short, only ten or so blocks. It was an off-white, circular porch with a grey roof in the middle of Lawrence City Park. It was here that Dean first tried to kiss a girl, and here was the same place Dean had first gotten slapped. It was here that Jimmy had sprained his ankle so bad (from jumping off the gazebo and landing weird) he couldn't go to school the next four days, and the same place Dean had carried Jimmy ten blocks home when the younger boy had almost broken his ankle. The memories here were plentiful.

When Jimmy got there, Dean was already sitting on the bench, flipping through a magazine. Jimmy leaned his bike against the gazebo and sat next to Dean.

"_Sports Illustrated_?" Jimmy inquired.

Dean shook his head. "_Playboy_."

"Uh-huh." Jimmy coughed. Dean held up the magazine sideways for Jimmy. The page depicted a blonde girl with her legs spread apart, clad with only a pair of cherry red panties. Jimmy wrinkled his nose and sniffed. Dean chuckled, "Would you do her? I totally would."

"Mleh."

Dean flipped the page to a picture of a raven-haired, exotic looking woman sitting on a motorcycle… in nothing but a pair of army boots. The handlebars of the motorcycle covered the pubic area, luckily. Dean chuckled again. Jimmy rolled his eyes and tapped Dean on the arm. "Hey, I'd put that away before you get too excited. There are kids here ya know."

Dean smiled, closed the magazine, and shoved it into the bag at his feet. "So…." he began. "Anything new going on with you and Amelia?"

Jimmy looked up from the floor. "Amelia? What about her?"

Dean snorted. "Oh, come on, everybody's seen the way you two 'catch eyes' in the hall. Any developments?"

"Dean, you're worse than my mother."

"Yo momma's worse than yo momma."

"_What_?"

Dean chuckled and kicked at a piece of dust on the floor. "But no, seriously, what's going on between you two?"

"Nothing. Amelia's OK, but she's not my type. She's so… pushy."

"Maybe that's a good thing."

Jimmy sent an exasperated look over at Dean, who gave him a trademark smirk. Then, Dean's smile froze into a barely-covered snarl. Jimmy looked back over his shoulder and saw a young man approaching. He vaguely recognized him from school… His hair was cropped short and was a grayish-blonde. His face was thin with high cheekbones and small, squinting eyes. He looked a bit older than Dean or Jimmy, perhaps a junior. A sound of movement behind him told Jimmy that Dean had stood up. The approaching man sneered and remarked, "Look at that. The lovebirds. How sweet."

"All alone today, Alistair? Not surprising. How long 'til you're off parole?"

Alistair stopped in his tracks. "Clever, Dean-y boy." Icy blue eyes focused on Jimmy, making the younger boy uncomfortable. "Who's this? Your boyfriend?"

"Jimmy." Jimmy found himself standing up, eager to make himself appear strong. "I'm Jimmy."

Alistair smiled snidely and turned his gaze back to Dean. "Hooked yourself a pretty one, Dean-o. Gotten to second ba-"

"He's not my boyfriend." Dean snarled.

Alistair's smile seemed to grow. "Nice. Can I have him?"

Jimmy shuddered suddenly. _God_, to have this, this _man_ for a lover would be the most awful thing ever. He straightened his shoulders, trying to assert himself. Alistair stepped closer. He was now looking into Jimmy's eyes. "Wanna join me, Jimmy? I can show you a good time."

Dean growled and sidestepped closer to Jimmy. "Don't talk to him."

Alistair ignored Dean and leaned on the fence on the gazebo. "You're very pretty."

Dean now took his confrontation a step farther and moved in front of Jimmy, guarding him from Alistair. He leaned closer and seethed, "Get. The fuck. Away from him."

Jimmy swallowed and peered over Dean's shoulder. Alistair smiled gently and began to step backwards, away from Dean. He waved, "Ta-ta" and walked off. Jimmy released the breath he'd been holding and Dean turned to him. Thing is, his back had been very close to Jimmy, and when he turned, he moved forward a bit, and he didn't figure that his lips would scrape across the bridge of Jimmy's nose and bump into his left eye. "WOAH!" Dean yelled. "You wer- uh, uhm, you were, uh right ther-, sorry about that, uh, did I hurt you? Did that hurt you? I- God, what just happe-, are you OK?"

Jimmy blinked and nodded before reaching up and gently wiping the trace of Dean's lips away from his face. "Yeah, yeah. Um, I'm good. Fine."

Therein existed the first awkward silence that had ever come between these two.

"Who… who was that guy?"

Dean looked up from his fidgeting hands and stuttered, "Uh, wh-who? You mean uh, Alistair?"

"Yeah."

Dean shrugged and fidgeted some more. "N-nobody. Just some jerk from school who's pastime is creeping people out."

* * *

**Oh-Ho-HO! We have sexual tension people! Sexual tension is IN DA HOUZE!**


End file.
